


recognition

by couldaughter, Linxcat



Series: les trekables [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Star Trek
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linxcat/pseuds/Linxcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Grantaire met Jim Kirk, he was 8 years old and being shipped off to his uncle's house on some backwater colony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	recognition

The first time Grantaire met Jim Kirk, he was 8 years old and being shipped off to his uncle's house on some backwater colony. Well, both of them were, as it turned out.

Tarsus was boring as hell, dusty and dry, but Kirk was 5 years older and much too vibrant for such a colourless place. The food was good, anyway, and there was enough water for them all, somehow, all 8000 people working their way through the harvest. It did at least, Grantaire thought, have more freedom than Betazed or Earth ever had.

They became friends soon enough, although it was more Grantaire following Jim around and Jim not minding all that much. Which meant that when the lists came out, two years later, Grantaire was surprised that they weren't on the same one.

He'd followed the crowd into the square anyway, his uncle still asleep at home and the guards at the gate unsurprised to see a skinny 11 year old in the crowd. He pushed his way to the front, and regretted it for the rest of his life, getting to see the governor telling them they were deemed inferior (and didn't you know that already, whispers a traitorous voice in his head) and then suddenly the crush of people trying to run. His brain was overloaded, almost, the swirl of _panicfeardesperation_ nearly making him collapse, but then someone grabbed his arm and a familiar face appeared.

“Lost your way, R?” Jim's grin seemed forced, but Grantaire focused on it as they crept around the edge of the arena. Luckily they were both small enough to pass through crowds without too much trouble, but the moment Grantaire felt the first person die was – he didn't like to think about it, the sudden lack of feeling inside his mind where there had been a person, extinguished in a burst of pain. They got out though, miraculously, Jim grabbing as many people as possible and telling them to run, Grantaire trying to sooth their panic in whatever way he could.

\------

The first time Grantaire lost Jim Kirk, he was 11 years old and bone tired. Finding food had been getting more and more difficult, three months after Kodos had condemned them, and everyone was more acquainted with the shape of their ribs than they could ever have wanted. They'd been hiding in the dried out forests on the outskirts of the main city, the leaves crunching dangerously wherever they walked, and the day they were caught could quite truthfully be called the worst day of Grantaire's life.

The first sign that something was wrong was the moment Jim left them, telling them to be quiet, his voice odd. Grantaire, however, being his disobedient self, had followed, a sudden desire to know his friend's actions moving him forward, silently. His tree climbing skills came in useful, for once. 

There was a guard coming towards them, and Grantaire stopped breathing. Jim seemed unworried, his posture only a little more tight than it had been, although that wasn't saying much. Everyone was tense, in those days.

“Citizen, you must come with me.” The guard had a phaser.

Jim didn't.

Grantaire moved forward silently, tree to brittle tree, dropping from the branch closest to the guard, feeling almost detached. He had no idea, in the moment before he did it, whether his plan would work. It was more like an idea than a plan, truthfully, the knowledge that if Jim died he would never forgive himself.

The hand on the guard's shoulder seemed to surprise her, turning towards the smaller boy. Jim's eyes widened, panicked, but Grantaire was floating above himself. He thought, vaguely, of his family, and then grabbed the woman's face between his hands, hoping that the phaser wouldn't come into play. His empathy hadn't developed fully yet, but he could feel surprise rather than anger coming from the guard. He pushed back, his own emotion pouring into her head, _hateangerhunger_ , until she collapsed.

Jim stepped forward slowly, and Grantaire felt- nothing. Something was wrong with his head, a sense of disconnect growing and growing. 

“I guess this is what shock feels like,” he murmured softly, and Kirk was beside him in an instant.

“You're a fucking idiot, R. I told you to stay behind.”

Grantaire thought he was smiling, but his face was numb. “Never was good at following orders. Hopeless case, that's me.”

Jim frowned, and Grantaire thought that was a shame. He had a nice smile, not that he'd seen it in a while.

The blackness around the edge of his vision was threatening to swamp him. “Hey, Jim. Jim. Thank you.”

He thought he saw Jim start to smile, but then there was another guard, and his vision disappeared as he collapsed.

He heard, fading, Jim's voice. “He's dead, you fucker. Not much that can be done now, huh?”

The flat tone confused him, but soon that disappeared as well.

\------

Grantaire woke up in an unfamiliar room, the white walls choking him. There was something wrong with his head, as well, a lack of feeling somewhere he couldn't name.

The first time a doctor tried to touch him, he ended up curled against the headboard, the lack of feeling worse than the sensation of skin against skin. They didn't try to touch him again, finally noting the all black irises that marked him as a betazoid. 

His cousin had been born null, and Grantaire worried, now, whether he'd lost his empathy. Becoming like that cousin, the one who had killed his motherbrothersisterlover without a thought, terrified him. The moment he realised Jim was probably dead, lost, had terrified him even more. He was alone in the universe.

The hospital wasn't sure where to send him, the silent boy with sunken eyes, and eventually he was released into the custody of the Starfleet foster system. He still didn't talk, but the sunken look faded.

Grantaire spent five years knocking about the system, foster parents finding him too quiet or too troublesome by turns, and by the time he turned 17 he realised he needed something- something more stable.

Enrolling in Starfleet officially was the first step.

\------

The red uniform was comforting, in its own way. Grantaire had signed up for a non-specialised course, hoping to find his vocation somewhere, the idea of having purpose again attractive. Classes were difficult, but not so much that he was completely behind. The lack of emotions pouring into his mind helped, the constant hollow feeling almost normal by that point.

A standard shuttle arrived with a batch of new recruits nearly every day, the mess of non uniformed people causing general upset. Grantaire liked it, but the sea of red was much more calming. Sometimes, when he thought about it, he concluded that red was his favourite colour. He wasn't sure what it said about him, though.

After the first few shuttle landings he found himself avoiding the pad, staying shut in his room for the hours afterwards. He wasn't sure why he did it, a vague feeling of unease tightening inside his chest, a strange tugging sensation in his brain that he didn't recognise for what it was.

The first time he spotted the new cadet across the courtyard, he dismissed the resemblance to his old friend as a coincidence, but that didn't stop him from running back to his room, his hands still shaking hours later. The second time, he saw the man's smile, and was certain.

He didn't approach him, though. Jim was talking to an older man, laughing, and Grantaire didn't want to change that. The first time he got overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, the sudden outpour of other people on a direct line to his nervous system, he fainted in the middle of his elementary tactics lecture. No one knew what to do, rushing him to the medical supervisor, but he woke up quickly and blamed a headache. Which was true, in its own way.

The nightmares didn't stop, but he never expected them to. It was still his fault Jim had been alone when the second guard arrived, too concerned with Grantaire to see them sneaking up behind them. He didn't seek Jim out, though. He was still arrested by the image of him happy. It shocked and sobered him to realise that of all the emotions he'd felt from Jim before everything had fallen apart, _contentmentangeraggravationlaughter_ , he'd never felt happiness.

\------

The second time Grantaire met Jim Kirk, it was after Nero tried to destroy the Earth, Grantaire was 20 years old, and they ran into each other. Literally.

Somehow, they'd never run into each other during their academy days, a strange mixture of avoidance on Grantaire's part and the fact that they had no classes together, Jim on command track and Grantaire, eventually, on psychology. The day Jim was granted the captaincy of the Enterprise, Grantaire had stood and clapped with the rest of the academy, then excused himself to drink himself sick off campus.

The next morning he'd woken with a splitting headache and a blessed lack of other people's feelings clouding his own. Then, on the pavement outside the housing block, he'd run straight into Jim. The moment of horrific realisation was less painful than the bruising on his back where he'd fallen, but not by much.

Jim looked shocked. Grantaire pushed himself to his feet and readied himself to run.

“R?” Jim's voice broke, somehow, and Grantaire started breathing again. “Is that you?”

He smiled, the feeling of surprise leaking into his brain better than wine. “Jim.”

Grantaire found himself with an armful of starship captain, a wave of _sorrysorrysorry_ hitting him and making him stagger a little. He tightened his arms around Jim's back.

“Nice to see you're feeling affectionate, you fucker.” Jim mumbled, his head buried in Grantaire's shoulder. “Thought you were dead.”

“Nah. I'm pretty hard to kill. Stubborn fuck, you know.”

They separated, Jim keeping a hand on Grantaire's shoulder. “Do you want to get a drink or something?”

Grantaire smiled again. “You have no idea how much I want that right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> myself and jess have been working on planning this au for a ridiculous amount of time. hopefully some more should be upcoming in the near future.


End file.
